


The Best

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: fall_fantasia, Frottage, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-02
Updated: 2008-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a Malfoy, Scorpius is expected to be the best. But what does that mean?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesyeuxverts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesyeuxverts/gifts).



When Scorpius Malfoy went to Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat put him into Ravenclaw. It muttered about him having a good mind and not being ambitious, and shouted out, "Ravenclaw!" before Scorpius could react.

"Ravenclaw?" Deputy Headmaster Longbottom looked surprised. "Right. Off you go, Malfoy."

Scorpius swallowed hard and moved toward the table that was applauding him. He had always assumed – his parents had always assumed – that he would be in Slytherin. It was the best house, they asserted, and Malfoys were of the best. Throughout his childhood Scorpius had simply taken that fact for granted, even though he understood vaguely that for some reason having to do with his grandfather, Malfoys were not always trusted by other wizards. If anything that was just one more reason to be better.

Although writing to his parents to tell them that he had _not_ been sorted into their old house was probably the most difficult thing he had ever done up to that point in his life, by the end of his first term he admitted privately to himself that the Hat had been right. He fit in, in Ravenclaw. He had been so ashamed of himself to begin with that he hadn't talked about his family to his housemates at all, and as a result they thought him shy but not conceited. Thus rather to his surprise he became one of the best-liked students in his year, not just amongst the Ravenclaws but even with the other houses.

His parents finally decided that Ravenclaw was a respectable second choice, certainly better than Gryffindor and far more to be desired than Hufflepuff. Scorpius learned to keep his mouth shut when they talked about it.

* * *

  
"Alastair," moaned Scorpius into his pillow as he came, then sat up, horrified.

He'd just called out the name of one of the Gryffindor Beaters. He wasn't sure whether it was worse that it was a Gryffindor, or a bloke, that he'd been fantasising about, but in any case he'd better be careful to put a Silencing Charm on his bed before he wanked again.

That was in his third year. As a good Ravenclaw he did some research and found out that sometimes feelings like his were just a phase, and he didn't want to upset his parents until he was sure. By his final year, however, there was no question in Scorpius's mind that he most definitely preferred his own sex.

He had a couple of brief flings with other boys at school which were enough to confirm his feelings, but it was older men who really interested him. Not just a _few_ years older, either, the way Alistair had been. When Scorpius walked around Hogsmeade, or went to Diagon Alley during the holidays, much to his dismay it was men his father's age who kept catching his eye. He wasn't quite able to act on his impulses, but gradually he became less and less keen on anyone who wasn't at least ten years his senior, even when he was looking at mags to wank with.

The summer that he finished school he applied for jobs at the Ministry of Magic. His father insisted on that, saying that it was important for the family for Scorpius to have a position in the Ministry. His application forms in, Scorpius waited apprehensively for the N.E.W.T. results that would determine to which department he might be assigned. At last the results arrived, and two days later Scorpius had an owl with a request to come in for an interview with the Assistant Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley.

Scorpius's father sniffed when he saw the letter, but said, "He may be a Weasley, but he's fair, I'll give him that. And it's a good sign that you're interviewing with someone in a senior position."

Scorpius dressed carefully, anxious to make a good impression, and was perched on the edge of the chair in the reception room ten minutes before his scheduled appointment, trying not to appear too nervous in front of the secretary. When the hour struck, Miss Wiggam nodded at Scorpius. "The Assistant Minister will see you now. Go on in."

Fumbling slightly with the knob, Scorpius opened the door and stepped inside.

"You must be Mr Malfoy. Please come in and have a seat."

As soon as he realised he was staring, Scorpius dropped his eyes, hurrying to the indicated chair and grateful that his robes covered his shaking knees. Percy Weasley, Assistant Minister of Magic, was everything that Scorpius had fantasised about for years. Tall, slim but fit, a touch of white hair at his temples giving him a look of distinction, horn-rimmed glasses emphasising his authority. If he hadn't been sitting down already, Scorpius thought he might have collapsed when Mr Weasley came around the desk to shake Scorpius's hand and settled himself in the other comfortable chair.

"Now then." Mr Weasley flipped open a slim brown folder and ran his finger along the top sheet of parchment inside. "Nine N.E.W.T.s, all with Outstanding marks except for Es in Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy. Excellent. I believe you are the highest in your year."

"Thank you, sir," Scorpius managed to say, although his voice squeaked a bit.

Mr Weasley looked up and smiled at him. "Nervous?"

"A little bit. Sir."

"Understandable, but you needn't be. There's no question but that the Ministry wants to hire you, it's only a matter of which department you'd be best suited to at this time, and where you're most needed. Is there any particular area where your interests lie?"

Scorpius shook his head mutely. He hadn't ever really considered where he would work if he had a choice. Mr Weasley looked disappointed.

"Surely there's _something_ that appeals to you?"

"Perhaps the Department of International Magical Cooperation?" said Scorpius, choosing the name at random from the list of departments he'd seen posted in the lift.

"That's where I started." Mr Weasley's voice was pleased. "It's a good place for someone who hopes to advance someday; you can make a lot of useful contacts there."

"I would like that, I think," said Scorpius, thinking to himself that the contact he most wanted that moment was with Mr Weasley's hand again.

"Very well. We'll expect you to start a week from Monday; someone will be in touch with you before then with the paperwork." Mr Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Dull, perhaps, but necessary."

"Yes sir, thank you sir." The interview seemed to be over, and Scorpius stood up.

Mr Weasley stood too, and held out his hand to shake Scorpius's once again. His fingers were smooth and warm and the touch of them sent little shocks through Scorpius's body, sizzling down his nerves and ending at his prick.

He managed to make it somewhat dazedly out of the office and down the hallway to a loo that he remembered seeing on his way in, where he locked the door of the stall and wanked himself to a fast and furious orgasm, sighing with relief afterward.

* * *

  
The third time that Scorpius found that his family name didn't necessarily mean what he assumed it did was after he'd been working at the Ministry for nearly two years. He had already been promoted twice and had long since moved into a nice little flat of his own, rather than continuing to live with his parents.

His obsession with Assistant Minister Weasley had not abated, and he had managed to discover that the man had been divorced for several years now, and that rumour had it that the reason was because he was gay. Scorpius knew perfectly well that rumour might be false, but he hoped not. The fact that Mr Weasley did not appear to have any current lover of either sex he took as a good sign. He also found hope in the fact that Mr Weasley seemed to consider him a protégé, making it a point to have lunch with Scorpius in the canteen every two or three weeks, and stopping by the Department of International Magical Cooperation regularly to see how things were going.

One Friday that friendly stop happened to occur just before five o'clock, and Scorpius told himself he would never have a better chance at it. A Malfoy oughtn't to be afraid.

"Would you like to have a drink together, sir?" he asked, regretting the "sir" immediately, since it suggested a business relationship that was not at all what he had in mind.

Mr Weasley raised an eyebrow. His glance slid up and down Scorpius's body, and Scorpius held his breath. At last Mr Weasley nodded slowly.

"There's a Muggle pub quite close to my flat," Scorpius said then. "If you'd like to go there."

"You're on the Floo network, aren't you?"

Scorpius nodded.

"I need to take care of a few things still this evening before I leave, but shall I Floo over about six?"

Scorpius nodded again, then found his voice. "That would be perfect."

Mr Weasley inclined his head and reached up to settle his spectacles more firmly on his nose. "Six o'clock, then."

It wasn't much time, but enough so that Scorpius was able to dash home and do a quick tidy of his flat. Not that he ever let it get terribly _un_ -tidy, but he generally cleaned on the weekend, so tonight it had a week's accumulated clutter.

He was nervously drinking a glass of tap water in the kitchen when he heard the Floo thump and hurried into the other room to see Mr Weasley dusting himself off. Scorpius smiled. He'd been half afraid that the Assistant Minister might change his mind and not come after all.

"The pub is just down on the corner," he began, but broke off when Mr Weasley stepped closer and reached out to touch his arm.

"Mr Malfoy."

"Scorpius, please," Scorpius said.

Mr Weasley nodded, his blue eyes gazing intently at Scorpius's face. "Scorpius, then. Do you _really_ want to go out for a drink, or would you prefer to stay here?"

"W-what?" Scorpius stammered.

"May I sit down?" At Scorpius's nod, Mr Weasley moved to the sofa and seated himself. He had changed clothes and put on a Muggle-style suit which fit his long frame admirably and made him look even more distinguished than he did in his usual robes. He patted the cushion next to him. As Scorpius sat, Mr Weasley said, "You look very nice."

"Thanks." Scorpius blushed. He had changed as well, into fine black wool trousers and a knitted shirt, also black, that hugged his chest, and he knew that the contrast with his fair skin and hair was striking. He hadn't expected Mr Weasley to notice or to compliment him, though.

"You know my position at the Ministry." Mr Weasley looked serious..

"Of course," said Scorpius, confused. "You're the Assistant Minister of Magic."

"Yes. It's a position that I've worked very hard to reach, and I've never abused it. Technically all Ministry personnel are under my supervision, after that of Minister Shacklebolt."

Scorpius thought miserably that he knew what was coming next. "You mean you can't fraternise with anyone employed there."

"Not quite. Since I don't supervise you directly, it is marginally acceptable from that perspective." Mr Weasley frowned. "However, you do realise that the difference in our ages is significant."

"I _like_ that you're older." Without stopping to think about it, Scorpius reached for Mr Weasley's hand, clasping the long thin fingers which sent a spark racing along his nerves. From Mr Weasley's muted gasp, he guessed that the same was happening to him.

"I can't afford even the appearance of any kind of corruption or coercion, especially of someone so young," Mr Weasley murmured, but his pulse was beating fast against Scorpius's fingers.

"There isn't any," said Scorpius. "Look, if that would be a problem for you, I expect I could find some other job, not in the Ministry. I've only been there a little while, really, and it wouldn't be that big of a deal."

The freckled skin of Mr Weasley's throat moved as he swallowed. He lifted his hand and brought it to Scorpius's cheek, pulling him close for a kiss.

Scorpius melted into it. This was exactly what he had dreamed of – confident lips, a tongue coaxing his mouth to open and reciprocate, the feeling of secure warmth as Mr Weasley's arms gathered him close. He wrapped his own arms around Mr Weasley's shoulders and gave himself up to it.

"I didn't think you were ever going to say anything," Mr Weasley murmured after they had kissed for a good long while, long enough for Scorpius's erect cock to feel uncomfortably trapped in his trousers. "I set myself a rule a long time ago that, because of my position, I would never make the first move."

Scorpius laughed softly. "If I'd known that, I would have said something a lot sooner." He smoothed one hand over the fabric of Mr Weasley's jacket. "I've thought about you every day since I first came in to interview."

"So have I." Mr Weasley stroked his thumb over Scorpius's cheek. "It's been... difficult. I considered not hiring you just because I wasn't sure I could handle the temptation."

"You did?"

Mr Weasley nodded. "But you were eminently qualified, and if I hadn't, it might have appeared to be discriminatory."

"I don't understand," said Scorpius. "Because I like men? But no one much knows that."

"No, because you're a Malfoy," Mr Weasley said. "Your father and grandparents were officially pardoned, and Ministry policy is to disregard such family history. If I'd refused to hire you, however, some people might have assumed that it was because of your connection – indirect though it might be – with Voldemort, or because of the longstanding bad blood between your family and mine. Surely you're aware of _that_."

"Yes," Scorpius admitted. "That is, I know that my father doesn't care much for you, or for any Weasleys really. He's never explained why exactly." The discussion was making him restless, and Mr Weasley looked sad, somehow. "Does it matter? As long as I like you and you like me, and we're not doing anything that's against Ministry rules?"

Mr Weasley bent his head and kissed Scorpius's throat, causing him to shiver. "Perhaps it doesn't."

" _Oh_ ," said Scorpius as Mr Weasley licked along his jaw, nipping at his ear. "Oh – please, sir."

"Sir?" Mr Weasley gave a gulping kind of laugh and pulled away. "Don't call me that; I feel far too old for you as it is."

Scorpius bit his lip. "I guess I should call you Percy then? Only it feels funny, I'm used to thinking of you as Mr Weasley."

"Percy," said Mr Weasley – _Percy_ – firmly. "Say it."

"Percy," Scorpius repeated. He moved closer, swinging one leg up and around so that he'd seated himself on Percy's lap, facing him, before Percy could stop him. If he'd wanted to. He didn't object, though, when Scorpius put both his arms around Percy's neck and kissed his left temple above his spectacles, where silver hairs caught the light amid the ginger ones. Percy hummed a little and ran his hands down Scorpius's back, all the way down until he was cupping the cheeks of Scorpius's arse.

"So lovely," he murmured against Scorpius's throat.

Scorpius shivered pleasurably, his hands busy between them, unbuttoning Percy's suit coat and then his shirt, loosening his tie, smiling to himself as he realised that Percy was wearing an undershirt as well and tugging it loose so that he could slide a hand up Percy's warm chest, feeling the springy hair there. He wanted everything, all at once, and fumbled at the fastenings of Percy's trousers.

"Impatient," Percy chided, but he helped Scorpius unbutton and unzip both of them until their cocks could be freed, bare flesh to bare flesh, hot and damp and Scorpius trembled again at the thought of what he was doing, dizzy with intensity as Percy touched him, encouraged him, and he spent against Percy's belly.

"Sorry," Scorpius whispered, ashamed to have come so fast, but Percy shook his head and lifted his hand to his own mouth, licking at the streaks of semen.

"Kiss me."

Scorpius tasted himself in Percy's mouth. Percy took Scorpius's hand and guided it as they kissed, and together they brought Percy to his own orgasm.

Blue eyes gazed half-lidded from behind smudged lenses as Percy looked at Scorpius afterward. There was something almost unbearably sexy about the way that Percy still had on his clothes, the extremities tidy and even his shoes neatly tied, but disarranged in the centre with his satiated cock resting against the white cotton of his pants.

A smile tugged at Scorpius's mouth. "That was brilliant."

"That was nothing," said Percy softly. "Well, not _nothing_. Better than... well. Shall we say, quite remarkable." He smiled back at Scorpius. "But there's a lot more we could do... if you want to." He suddenly looked worried.

"I do," Scorpius assured him. "More than anything." His stomach rumbled. "Just not until after dinner, maybe?"

Percy laughed. "After dinner is soon enough."

They both stood, then, a little self-consciously tucking clothes back into place, each casting his own cleaning spell to get rid of the stickiness.

"You said there was a Muggle pub nearby?" Percy asked. "I'll take you there to eat."

* * *

  
Scorpius took a job working for the Owl Post, which his parents considered a bit of a come-down until he reorganised the entire system and emerged as its second-in-command before he was twenty-five years old.

He met with Percy first once a week, then twice, then daily, until they moved in together a year after Scorpius quit his Ministry position. Even then they usually met after work and went first to the Muggle pub, talking, confiding in each other in ways that Scorpius had never imagined could be possible. After three years of living with Assistant Minister Percy Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy learned that it didn't matter whether or not he was a Malfoy.

He was the best, whatever his name.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lesyeuxverts for the 2008 fall_fantasia exchange. Many thanks to Emiime and Florahart for beta assistance; I take full responsibility for all remaining errors and infelicities.


End file.
